


Sweat and Leather

by solynacea



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Car Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24887494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solynacea/pseuds/solynacea
Summary: Dante is bored.You can tell from the way he shifts, restless in the bucket seat of Morrison’s car, from the drum of his fingers on the steering wheel, from the low huffs that pass his lips every time he checks the clock on the dashboard and sees it’s only been five minutes since the last time he looked. He’d gotten a job for a demon that seems to be lurking the alleys of the warehouse district; not wanting to endure the required stakeout alone, he’d asked you to come along, and you’d agreed. Now, resigning yourself to the fact that his attention is going to wander your way if the demon doesn’t make an appearance soon, you wonder if you made the right call.
Relationships: Dante (Devil May Cry)/Reader, Dante/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 141





	Sweat and Leather

**Author's Note:**

> Another Dante/Reader one-shot! This one can sort of, maybe be read as a sequel to Idle Hands if you squint, and takes place post Devil May Cry 5. Because that Henley shirt and those tight jeans are just. So good. I want to give another huge shout-out to lickitysplitfic for all of her help with this, and if you haven’t read any of her stories, you should definitely check her out.
> 
> [Cross-posted from my Tumblr, solynaceawrites.]

Dante is bored.

You can tell from the way he shifts, restless in the bucket seat of Morrison’s car, from the drum of his fingers on the steering wheel, from the low huffs that pass his lips every time he checks the clock on the dashboard and sees it’s only been five minutes since the last time he looked. He’d gotten a job for a demon that seems to be lurking the alleys of the warehouse district; not wanting to endure the required stakeout alone, he’d asked you to come along, and you’d agreed. Now, resigning yourself to the fact that his attention is going to wander your way if the demon doesn’t make an appearance soon, you wonder if you made the right call.

He peers at you from the corner of his eye, his curious gaze like a physical touch. You pretend not to notice, even when he leans back in his seat, stretching so his shirt rides up to expose his hips. It’s warm enough that he’s not wearing his coat, and the Henley fabric clings to him deliciously, accentuating the broad expanse of his chest and his thick biceps, and you steal a glance at the dusting of hair beneath his navel. But when he palms his crotch, not-so-subtly adjusting himself, you can’t help but to scoff and roll your eyes. “I know what you’re doing, and it’s _not_ happening.”

“Doing what?” You know he’s smiling from the tone of his voice. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Uh-huh. So you’re _not_ trying to be irresistible?”

This time it’s a frown you hear. “Am I not already?”

You offer nothing but a shrug, leaning onto the door and propping your chin in your palm. It’s not that you’re against having sex with him, or doing it in a car: you’re against having sex with him in Morrison’s car, because you’re certain that man would know no matter how much you scrubbed the evidence away. And getting him to agree to let Dante drive it in the first place had been a fight in and of itself.

Dante yawns, then turns to face you, one arm over the back of your seat. “Mind if I roll down the window? It’s gettin’ a bit stuffy in here.”

“Sure.”

He leans over you and starts to unroll your window, his body covering yours as you shrink into the seat and pray to whatever God there might be to grant you the serenity and patience required not to give in to his charm. Dante looks down at you with a grin, and you roll your eyes again when he says, “You smell good, babe.”

“I thought you meant your own window,” you mutter.

“You looked hot to me,” he replies, leaning closer to nuzzle your neck.

“The demon we’re after isn’t under my shirt,” you say dryly. His hands pause in tugging said shirt up, his fingers barely under the edge, and he runs his nose over the curve of your ear.

Despite your tone, you shiver, and he lets out a low, rumbling chuckle. “Mind if I check?”

“Yes, I mind.”

You try to sound serious, but you’re smiling, almost unwillingly. _Serenity,_ you think, _peace._ “Can’t help myself. It’s dark and quiet and all I can do is think about the hot girl sitting next to me.” His hand has moved to your knee, where it slowly drags up your thigh, lightly scratching the denim of your jeans.

“Mm-hm.” You tilt your head to the side, not at all surprised when your lips graze over his with how he’s so on top of you, almost like a blanket. “What, exactly, are you thinking?”

“Tryin’ to figure out why we haven’t fucked in a car before.”

“Two reasons.”

“Mm?”

You try not to laugh as he plants a wet, smacking kiss to your cheek, an attempt to distract you as his fingers reach the top of your thigh. “One: we don’t own a car. Two: this is Morrison’s. I already had to beg to get it for tonight. I don’t want to know what he’d do if we had sex in it.”

Dante groans. “Oh, you shouldn’t have told me that. You should _not_ have told me that.”

“Why?”

He cups your sex through your jeans, making you squeal. “Because now we gotta do it,” he moans. You laugh and push on his arm, but he massages you slowly as his lips trail to your ear. “Fuck, the temptation is too good.”

“And where are we going to ‘do it’?” With a sigh, you rub lightly up to his shoulder before wrapping your arms around him. “I don’t know if you’ve realized this, but you’re a bit tall.”

“Let’s get you out of these clothes first,” he suggests.

“In public?”

“No one’s here but us.”

You look around. True, you’re in a pull-off behind the parking lot of an empty mall. Trees conceal you, for the most part, and all you’re doing is sitting in the car and waiting to see movement from the demon that’s supposed to be here. It’s the third night, with no luck, and still your murmur, “Anyone could drive up. Some locals, the cops . . .”

“You know how to get me goin’, don’t ya?” he growls as he bites your ear.

You take another peek through the window, sweeping carefully over their surroundings with a tendril of magic. When it comes up empty, you slide a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck and give the strands a tug, and Dante arches into you with a groan that sends a flush of heat to your core. “If you can figure out how we’d fit . . .” you muse, “I might say yes.”

He turns his face to capture your lips, both of you laughing as you share a long, wet kiss. It reminds you of when you were first together, and Dante was insatiable. Not that is any less all over you now, but he’s usually _much_ smoother, and doing it in the car is just so juvenile that you can’t help the giggles.

He pulls away with a wet smack of your lips and then sits back, reaching between his legs to push his seat back. “Plenty of room on my lap,” he grins, patting his thighs.

“Uh-huh.” You eye him thoughtfully for a moment, your lips still curled in a smile. “Keep your hands over there, handsome.”

Dante opens his mouth, but you’re already grabbing the hem of your shirt, and you pull it carefully over your head, nearly dissolving into another fit of giggles at how his eyes pop with surprise. You fold the fabric and set it on the dashboard, and then you unbutton your jeans and shimmy them down your legs, so that all you’re left in is the matching white lace set of underwear.

“Oh, hell yeah.” He grins, holding a hand out.

You grab the steering wheel to pull yourself over the console, climbing into the driver’s side where Dante sits. The wheel turns slightly, knocking you off balance, and you catch yourself with your knee jabbing into his thigh and your elbow hitting the horn and letting off a short beep!

“Easy there,” he winces. Dante grabs your waist and heaves you over, and you press against his chest as you try to figure out a way to straddle him. But he’s so damn big that there’s barely room for him, let alone your legs. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, and with you draped halfway over him, one of your feet on the floor, he grabs your backside and moves in for another kiss, teasing the backs of your thighs.

“Dante,” you murmur. He goes still, waiting, and that’s something that _never_ fails to make you ache: no matter what you’re doing, or where you are, or what you’re saying, he listens. He waits for you. “Can you . . .?”

You nudge his thigh with your knee, and he grunts and shifts as much as he can. But there’s still not enough room for you to straddle him properly; with a huff, he grabs your hips and turns you, pulling your back to his chest and cradling your legs between his own. “Better?”

“Yeah, but, uh . . .” You lean your head back on his shoulder so you can look at him as you grind your backside against his crotch. “How are we going to do this?”

“Oh, I’ll figure it out. Don’t you worry.” He grabs your chest with one hand as the other dips to the top of your panties, and Dante’s mouth presses to your neck, leaving an open-mouthed kiss as he starts to play with your body.

Your eyes drift closed as he works. The two of you have been together for years, and he knows every inch of you, and it isn’t long at all before you’re purring under his touch. “That’s my girl,” he mumbles when you arch and grab at his hair.

You try to open your legs wider, but there’s only so much room on his lap. One knee presses uncomfortably against the door, the other halfway wrapped around the gearshift, and Dante groans as you wiggle in his lap. “Careful, babe, or this’ll be over before we get started,” he laughs.

He removes his hand from between your legs and slides it upwards so he can cup both breasts in his large palms. “There’s just not enough room,” you complain. “Why do you have to be so damn big?”

Dante laughs and presses his hips up, and you can feel the outline of his cock, stiff under his jeans, rub against your rear. “Thought you liked it big,” he says as he kisses your shoulder.

You dip your hand between your bodies to give him a squeeze. “This? Yes. I love how it tastes, and how it feels. But I’m not so much a fan of trying to fit both of us in one seat with how broad you are.”

“Got an idea,” he says after a moment. He pushes your forward, giving your backside a playful smack as he reaches over and pops the door open. There is some fumbling, and you’re pressed to the dashboard as he climbs out, and then Dante readjusts the seat before opening the backdoor. He shuts the driver’s side and slips into the back, which is a full bench instead of the bucket seats up front.

He grabs his coat and tosses it into the passenger’s seat and does a bit of a pose as he pulls the back door shut. “Can you climb over?” he asks with a smile.

“I think I can manage that.” Your first thought—to try and make it sexy—quickly proves futile. It’s nearly impossible to clamber over the center console _and_ put a seductive sway in your hips, so you settle for quite literally sliding into his lap, pushing your hair over your shoulder with a laugh. “Next time we do this, I say we use the van.”

“The van, huh?” He grabs at your hips with a lascivious grin.

“More room.”

“Nero would kill us.”

“If he found out.”

You push his shirt up as he laughs again, lifting his arms to help. “You always have the best ideas,” he sighs.

Dante slides his hands into your hair and pulls you into another kiss; this one is deep and passionate and has you gasping against his tongue as you can do nothing to surrender to it. Your hands roam his chest, circling his nippes before tracing the deeply carved muscle, moaning softly when you feel his stomach twitching under your touch. “Lower, babe,” he says against your lips before taking them again, and you easily open his belt and yank the zipper of his jeans down before reaching inside.

He huffs against your mouth when your fingers curl around the base to tug him free, and once the denim is out of the way you give him a slow, appreciative stroke. You’ve seen other dicks, yes, but there’s something about his that’s truly pretty, and you’ve always wondered if that has something to do with his heritage. Dante bucks into your hand, sliding his erection against your palm with another low huff. Then he moves one of his hands down, his wrist brushing yours as he plunges his hand into your panties.

You moan into his mouth when he finds your clit, stroking her boldly. Meanwhile your own hand pumps a steady rhythm up and down the long length of his rigid cock, the air inside the car getting warmer by the second. “Know what this reminds me of?” he pants.

“Hm?”

“That cabin we stayed in on that job up north. The one that was nothing but a shack.”

You laugh against his kiss, remembering it well. It was a fishing hut, to be more accurate, enough room for an overstuffed chair and a small table and nothing else: no bed, no stove, not even a toilet. The client had offered a place to stay as you hunted a creature on his property, and too late to head back and risk getting lost in the woods, you’d roughed it for the night, with you sleeping in his lap as you huddled for warmth. “At least this time I’m not freezing my nuts off,” he teases, using his free hand to yank down the fabric of your bra so he can palm your exposed breast.

You bite your lip, pressing your chest out and dropping your head to his shoulder. “I’m sure we could have found a way to keep them warm.”

He chuckles again, but says nothing, and you tilt your head when his hair tickles your cheek to give him access to your throat. His lips trace along your skin, and you sink into the warmth of him.

You continue on like this for several minutes, kissing and stroking one another, Dante sampling your throat before you bite on his ear. Soon the windows are fogged and both of you are panting hard, and you can feel his cock leaking as much as you yourself are as you stroke him. “Dante . . .” you groan. “I need you.”

He lifts his head from where he’s sucking leisurely on your nipple, catching your chin between your teeth before yanking your panties to the side. “C’mon and do it, babe,” he says.

“Put your hands on the seats.”

He obeys immediately, and you listen to the leather squeak when he reaches behind his head to grasp at the top of the bench. You give him another stroke before lining him up; your head drops back with a long moan as you sink down on him, your body so sensitive that you can feel the blunt head as it stretches your walls, the stiff length that fills you until you’re shaking. Usually, you’d stop before the base, but you want as much of him as you can get, so you work your hips until your bodies are flush and you’re gasping from having him so deep.

“Babe, you look so fuckin’ hot right now,” Dante groans, his voice barely more than a rasp.

You grin and tilt your head, peeking an eye at him. “You’re right. This _was_ a good idea.”

You hold onto his shoulders as you start to move your hips, sliding up and down his length. Dante makes a sound deep in his throat, his arms flexing as he grips the headrest above. “You’re ridin’ my cock like this _and_ I was right about somethin’? Fuck, it’s my lucky day.”

“Are you sure?” You give a breathless laugh. “We’re on a job, which means you’re going to have to fight with the scent of sex on you. I hope you don’t get distracted.”

“You’re always a goddamn distraction,” he pants. Dante’s eyes roam your body as he lifts his hips to meet yours, pumping into you to match your rhythm. “I love distractions.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Before he can reply, you lean in to kiss him, sucking at his lips. The car fills with a heady scent as condensation beads on your skin, and you breathe all of it in, ignoring how his jeans chafe at your thighs and your knees start to stick to the leather seat. The whole thing reminds you of that ridiculous scene from some movie the two of you had watched together and, with a grin, you lean up to press your hand against one of the windows.

Dante slides down a bit on the seat, angling so he can look up at you. His hands move to your waist and he easily lifts you before guiding your body back down, picking up the pace as he reaches his chin up to take a soft bite from the inside curve of your breast. He continues to lift his hips to meet you, slamming into you hard and deep each time until your mouth hangs open with a moan with every pass.

“That’s it,” he pants. “That’s it, baby.”

His grip squeezes and relaxes with every flex of his hips, his mouth hot and insistent against your flesh. “I wish we weren’t in a car,” you mumble.

He peeks up at you. “Why?”

Your thoughts are a jumble of his mouth between your legs and his body pinning yours to the mattress, and you try to pluck one image from the myriad swirling within your mind. “I like it when you fuck me from behind.”

Dante’s answering laugh sends a shiver through you. “Next time, I’ll bend you over the hood of the car,” he says. “Would you like that?”

“Mm,” you sigh. You cup his face and pull him to your lips, kissing him teasingly as you rest for a moment, his cock filling you completely.

His hands slide from your waist around to your backside, taking your body in a firm grip. You wrap your arms around his neck, slowly grinding your hips as he massages your rear; then he slides his fingers along your seam, making you groan as he strokes your body. “You ready to come yet, babe?” he murmurs, the tone of his voice dark as he touches her and begins to pump his hips slowly.

“If I say no?” you murmur.

He grabs your hair and pulls you forward against him. “Then you’re getting left behind, because I’m about to fill you up.”

You look up at him, holding his gaze as you tug his hand from your hair and guide it between your legs. His lips curl ever-so-slightly before you cover them with your own, and you gasp against them when he dips his fingers under your hood and begins to give your clit quick, firm strokes.

Murmuring his name, you lean forward to seal your mouth over his. You grind against his hand as you rock your hips, riding him hard as you chase the orgasm that is rapidly approaching. Tilting up, you lean forward so he has to lift his chin to stay connected by your kiss, and at the new angle his cock hit a spot inside you that sends pleasure ricocheting through your body.

"Dante!" you shout just as your orgasm hits. It feels like your nerves are snapping, electricity pulsing as you break from the kiss and arch your back. You hear him laugh as his mouth presses to your chest, giving you a love bite, but his touch is relentless as he works your clit through the waves of pleasure.

You're a mess of trembling limbs and heaving breath when he lets out a groan that is feral and deep, and you sag against him as his hips begin to batter your thighs, his seed filling you in searing pulses. There's so much of it that it slips back over his cock as he empties within you, his teeth biting your skin harshly enough to bruise; then he slows, pumping leisurely instead of frantically, until he's merely rocking against you. Dante nuzzles your chest, your neck, planting a trail of sweet kisses while he cradles you against him.

"You alright?" he rasps. You give a little nod. With a low curse from him and a whimper from you, he slides his cock out of your body. "Holy shit."

You laugh, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. "Yeah."

Dante massages your back for a minute as your breathing slowly returns to normal. "Hey babe?" he murmurs.

"Hm?"

"I think we got company."

You bolt upright to see him nodding towards the window, his brows drawn into a frown. "Is it the cops?" you gasp.

"I wish." Awkwardly Dante tries to slide out from under you, and you try to untangle your limbs in the cramped backseat while grabbing clothes. It is a flurry of movement that has you both jabbed with elbows until he pulls the latch on the door and Dante falls halfway out, his head on the grass outside and his pants caught up on the seatbelt and pooled around his knees.

You peer over him to see the demon lumbering from the shadows, its baleful glare fixed on the car, and you groan as you lean over the front seat to grab his guns to toss to him. "Goddamn it," you mutter. "Morrison is gonna kill us if we wreck his car."


End file.
